Harry Potter and the Phantom Orb
by Jesus Villa
Summary: Three years after Harry has left Hogwarts, Voldemort is dead and the world is safe. But as Harry is summoned to Hogwarts to teach, a great evil has been resurrected. Harry may be the only person who can thwart it and save the world again.


  


HARRY POTTER 

AND THE 

PHANTOM ORB

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


By Jesús Villa

  
  


*Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its characters belong solely to J.K. Rowling. I own only the unfamiliar characters and devices. 

  
  


PROLOGUE

  
  
  


The dark figure huddled over the great, steaming cauldron. The potion hissed and sputtered, giving off an eerie red glow. With a flourish, the figure threw in a large handful of a strange, black powder, and the potion ignited with a flash of white flame. The wizard felt a trickle of sweat run down his face, and for good reason. For over a year now, this concoction had been brewing. If a mistake was made, the plan would be ruined, and all would be lost. There was too much at stake here; he would succeed where others had failed. He now reached for the skull. The cobra's skull. He savored the moment before casting it into the potion. He waited with baited breath for several minutes as nothing happened. His resolve began to waver as ten minutes passed. What had he done wrong? He had checked everything, nothing was out of–

With a roar, the potion erupted in a boiling, shimmering silver mass, like molten silver, and gave off the smell of dried blood. The figure cackled with glee and began to chant the incantation that he had committed to memory rapidly in Latin. "He who brought terror to the earth, the Harbinger of Death, the Lord of Darkness, I call upon you to rise again in glory!" He raised his bony, skeletal hands into the air with these final words as a blast of steam and smoke shot from the cauldron.

The potion turned now to a bright, vermilion green hue as the figure shouted, with an air of finality, "_Surgere!_" The potion erupted into a cloud of green and black smoke, hiding everything in a thick blanket of smog. The sorcerer coughed and waved his hands, but the smoke had already begun to disappear. Slowly, the smoke retreated into the potion once again. The sorcerer stared in comprehension, watching with baited breath. 

Finally, a sinister stream of green-black smoke seeped slowly from the huge cauldron, curling through the air into the shape of a skull. It hovered there for a moment before, to the conjurer's tremendous elation, a tendril of smoke slithered through the mouth of the skull and took the form of a snake.

Nearly six hundred miles away, Harry Potter shot up in his bed with a scream.

  
  
  
  


CHAPTER ONE 

  


Awakening

  
  


Harry gasped for breath, partially due to the pain in his scar and partially because of the dream he had just experienced. As he sat tangled in the bed covers, it took him a few moments to catch his breath and remember where he was.

His room was relatively small, though it was much larger than the bedroom he had slept in at the Dursley's not three years ago. Across the room sat his desk, cluttered with parchment, quills, and ink bottles. Atop it stood several pictures in frames: the faces of his seventh year class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry beamed over at him, some of the minuscule people waving at him. They all wore identical red and gold scarves, showing that they belonged to Gryffindor House. Next to that picture, Harry and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, smiled and laughed from their picture frame. And last but not least, a circular frame held Harry's favorite picture of his parents, James and Lily Potter.

Next to the door was an immense bookcase stuffed with hundreds of brightly-colored, leather bound volumes, bearing such names as The Arts of the Aurors: an Advanced Look at Defense Against the Dark Arts, by Marie Sojourner, and From Basilisks to Trolls: the Most Dangerous Magical Creatures in the World, by Brandon Higgum. Perched precariously on the topmost shelf was a large, empty golden cage that belonged to the snowy owl Hedwig. 

The wall to Harry's right was nearly covered with framed newspaper clippings. Several held honorary positions among the others. One such clipping read, "The Death of the Dark Lord: The Triumph of Harry Potter over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," while another read, "Harry Potter Awarded Order of Merlin: First Class and Honorary Wizarding Author by the Ministry". These awards, among others, rested on a circular table that was otherwise covered in an array of strange devices and instruments. 

In the center of the room, over a circle of stones, stood a cauldron large enough to hold a person comfortably. The stones beneath it, although cold now, showed signs of frequent use. Not ten feet from the cauldron, on the wall against which Harry's bed rested, was a cabinet full of potion ingredients and a large, intricately carved wardrobe that held all of Harry's clothes. Between these was a short, low shelf that held three books: one red, one black, and one green. All three had gold print on the spines and covers, and shared a common author: Harry James Potter. The red book was entitled A History of Magic; the black one read, The Compendium of Defense Against the Dark Arts; last of all, the green book read, A Wizard's Tale: an Autobiography. Finally, there was Harry's bed, a large four-poster not unlike those in the Gryffindor dormitory back at Hogwarts.

Harry took all this in before clambering carefully out of bed onto the hardwood floor. His hand groped for the night stand, found it, and picked up his glasses. As he put them on, Harry noticed that it had just changed to two o' clock in the morning, the red digital numbers illuminating Harry's wand. He walked over the window and leaned his head against the cool glass, calming his thoughts. Outside, Diagon Alley was silent and lifeless. Harry tried to think about the terrifying nightmare he had dreamed, but the details were slipping from his mind like water from a sieve. What had he seen? Harry rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes wearily. 

Harry Potter was now twenty years of age, though he hardly looked it. He was still only five feet, ten inches tall, a good six inches shorter than his tall and lanky friend Ron. He was rather skinny due to seventeen years of living with the Dursleys, but his figure had begun to fill out nicely now that he was away from them. He was, although it was hard to tell, muscular and fit. His wiry frame was powerful, most likely a byproduct of his Auror training. Due to an unfortunate accident, however, he hadn't been able to complete this training, and he would have to start it up again in two month's time. Or so he thought. His normally short, untidy hair had grown into long, untidy hair, though he'd managed to find a way to control it. Harry's glasses slightly magnified his brilliant emerald eyes, and in the middle of his forehead was his most distinctive feature: a thin, lightning-bolt shaped scar.

He must have dozed off while he was standing there, for he was awoken with a start by a harsh tapping on the glass ten minutes later. Harry jerked awake and saw Hedwig pecking at the glass with her ebony-colored beak. "Oh, sorry, Hedwig," he said, pulling the window up to let the owl in. She was carrying a dead rat in her beak, though it was the letter tied to her leg that caught Harry's interest. Hedwig waited until he had removed the letter before she alighted from the windowsill to her cage. With a jolt, Harry noticed that the message was from the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore. "Hedwig," he said to the owl, "Did Dumbledore send this?" Hedwig hooted a muffled affirmation through a beak full of rat as Harry tore the seal and began to read the letter. He was instantly awake. It read,

  


_Dear Mr. Potter,_

  
  


_ You are cordially invited to dinner at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the evening of Saturday, July 28. Due to a shortage in staff, we hope that you will consider becoming a teacher at Hogwarts, as there are several posts that are left to be filled. If you decide to join us for dinner, please send a letter confirming your arrival at the school. The deadline for your letter is July 26. _

  


_Yours Sincerely,_

  


_Professor Albus Dumbledore_

  


Harry stood stunned. He knew, of course, about Professor McGonagall's death the previous year; he had been present at the funeral. But had so many of the teachers left that students like himself had been sent letters? This state of shock didn't last long, however. Harry dashed to his desk, seized a piece of parchment and a quill so fast that Hedwig choked in surprise on her rat.

He dipped his quill into the ink and began to write furiously, hardly pausing to insert punctuation marks. After several minutes of frenzied writing, Harry paused to reread his letter. 

  


_Professor Dumbledore,_

  


_ I have just received your message and I accept your invitation. I know I'm sending this a little earlier than the deadline, but I realize the importance of this_ _meeting and I am sending my response immediately. I will be there as soon as possible._

  


_Best wishes,_

_Harry Potter_

  


Even though he wasn't completely satisfied with this reply, Harry nonetheless sealed the letter carefully with wax. He strode purposefully over to the bookcase, tilted his head back, and hailed the owl. "Oy! Hedwig! Listen, I know you just got back and all, but I need you to deliver this message for me." There was a pause above him before a rat bone shot down and bounced off of Harry's forehead. "C'mon, Hedwig!" pleaded Harry desperately. "This is really important!" Hedwig looked down at him with a scrutinizing stare before glancing nervously at the wardrobe. Harry heaved an inner sigh of relief. "Oh, Hedwig," he said, exasperated. "Anguis won't hurt you! You know that!"

Grudgingly, Hedwig swallowed the last of her rat and fluttered down onto Harry's awaiting arm, one taloned leg extended. "Oh, thanks, Hedwig," Harry said, tying his letter to her leg. "You're the best!" Hedwig swelled with pride. "When you've delivered it," he continued, "wait for me at Hogwarts." She nibbled his ear in affection before she soared out the window into the starry sky. He was so deeply lost in thought as he watched her disappear, however, that he didn't notice the door of his wardrobe slide silently open. A long, muscular, sinuous body slithered out onto the hardwood floor, tasting the air with a forked tongue. It slid fluidly around and approached Harry until it was only a foot away from him. 

The snake's tongue flicked out into the air several times more before it reared up off of the floor, as if to strike...and spoke. *Master,* the snake hissed up to him, *What has happened?* Harry looked around at the snake before exclaiming, in Parseltongue, *Anguis! I didn't notice you there!* 

Anguis was a Common Cobra whom Harry had purchased at the Magical Menagerie just a week before. Although he had been born there, his parents had been from Nepal. He had inherited from them the distinctive black-and-white eyeglass markings on the back of his large hood, while the rest of his body was light brown. One of the advantages of owning a snake was that Harry could communicate with it; the downside, however, was that Hedwig and Anguis deeply mistrusted each other, as all birds of prey and serpents do. Anguis, however, would never attack anything unless Harry told him to.

Harry bent down and extended his arm. The cobra slithered forward and coiled his full two and a half feet of length around Harry's arm, allowing himself to be lifted up. As they continued their conversation, Anguis stayed at eye level. *What has happened?* Anguis repeated, his dark tongue flicking in the air. Harry paused before replying. *Have you heard of Albus Dumbledore?* He knew before the serpent answered that this had been a stupid question to ask a snake. 

But, to his surprise, Anguis said, *Of course. He is the headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.* Harry stared, stunned. *How did you know that?* he hissed slowly. *People who came into the shop would mention him when I still lived there,* the snake told him. Harry nodded before continuing, *Well, so many teachers have left the school, because of their age or because they...they passed on, that Dumbledore sent me a letter to ask me to be a teacher there!* Harry was sure that Anguis would have raised his eyebrows, had he had any.

*Do you think there are others he has asked?* the cobra hissed, his tongue flicking out again. Harry nodded. *I'm almost positive. At any rate, I can't sleep. I'm going to get dressed and packed.* He deposited the snake on his bed before removing his dressing robe. He strode to the wardrobe, Anguis's makeshift den, and pulled on a set of black jeans, a black tee shirt, black socks, and a pair of black dragonhide boots that came up to the middle of his shins. He didn't bother throwing on a robe; he would be among Muggles soon, anyway. To complete the effect, he took a black hair tie from his bedside table and tied his long, sleek, black hair back. Even to this day, Harry was amazed that he had managed to grow his hair this long and manage it.

Without watching what he was doing, Harry tossed his trunk onto the bed. Anguis managed to slither out of the way just in time. *Watch it!* he hissed angrily, hood spread wide. Harry looked over, startled. *Oh, sorry!* he exclaimed, snatching up his wand. With a long swishing motion, he waved his wand at the clothes, which promptly flew into the trunk and folded themselves neatly. *Little trick I learned from a woman name Tonks,* Harry hissed, grinning. Had the snake been able to produce facial expressions, he would have looked impressed. His hood lowered, and he curled up peacefully. 

Ten minutes later, Harry had packed absolutely everything he owned, save the furniture, into three large trunks. This was not without difficulty, however; when he had tried to send his books into one trunk, he must have waved his wand incorrectly, as the majority of the books tried to attack him before he stowed them away safely. As he closed the lid on the last trunk, however, he said, *Well, that's all of it Anguis. You can come out now.* Anguis, fearing an attack similar to Harry's, had disappeared beneath the bed. Now, however, he slithered back out and onto Harry's arm once again. *Right,* Harry said, surveying his now empty room. *We'll wait until daybreak, and then we'll leave for Hogwarts.* Satisfied with this plan, Anguis slithered lazily into Harry's deep, warm pocket and promptly fell asleep.

  


CHAPTER TWO

  


The Hogwarts Express

  
  
  


Harry awoke with the mid-morning sun blazing in his eyes like a spotlight. Anguis was curled up peacefully in his pocket, still asleep, and Harry fully intended to follow suit until... he saw the time on the clock, swore loudly, and leaped to his feet, startling the unfortunate reptile awake. "Damn!" Harry exclaimed, snatching up his wand and glasses again. "I overslept!" 

Although Anguis couldn't understand English, he got the gist of what Harry was swearing about, and wisely decided to stay inconspicuously in his master's pocket. Meanwhile, Harry brandished his wand and said, "_Locomotor trunks!_" His luggage sprang off the bed and hovered in the air. *Alright, Anguis,* Harry said, *Let's go.* 

They took the lift down to the bottom floor of Madame Hestia's Living Spaces, Harry's current apartment building, closely followed by the hovering trunks. He practically dashed out into Diagon Alley, narrowly avoiding a wizarding family accompanied by two children with dark brown hair. _Those'll be first years,_ Harry thought to himself. _My students._ He had no time to think, however; the Hogwarts Express left in thirty minutes. If he and Anguis left now, they just might make it.

Diagon Alley never ceased to amaze Harry. It was bustling with the morning's customers, who ducked into shops or merely admired their wares. Harry overheard a group of kids, who were staring longingly at a display in the window of the Quality Quidditch, say, "The new Windrunner 7... even better than the Firebolt, I heard..." Outside the Apothecary, a tall, thin man muttered, "... sixteen sickles for a pound of lizard claws! What are they thinking?..." He could smell the strong, acrid odor of bird droppings and half-finished rodents coming from Eyelop's Owl Emporium, and he heard muffled laughter and explosions from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. This joke shop was owned by Harry's friends Fred and George Weasley, and normally he would have stopped in to say hello. He had no time for that now. 

A hurried taxi ride and twenty-eight minutes later, Harry was at King's Cross Station. He made a beeline for platform ten. When he reached it, however, he did not board that train. Instead, he leaned casually on the solid brick barrier between platforms nine and ten. For a moment, he just leaned there. Then, with a whoosh, Harry fell backwards through the barrier onto a completely different platform, above which hung a large sign that read, "Platform 9¾". And there, glistening in the sun and releasing a large quantity of billowing white smoke, lay a train with a great red engine: the Hogwarts Express. Wasting no time, Harry rushed forward to the train and clambered aboard, followed closely by his luggage. 

He exhaled in relief, headed for a compartment, and slid the door open. Anguis poked his scaly head out of Harry's pocket and, seeing that the coast was clear, slid out gracefully. He promptly coiled himself on the seat next to Harry and, flicking his tongue out, asked, *How long will it be until we arrive?* Harry grunted as he shoved his luggage into the overhead compartment before replying. *Not long,* he replied. *A couple of hours at the most.* Finally, with one last heave of exertion, Harry managed to stow his trunks. He dropped, breathing heavily, back into the seat as Anguis slithered over onto his lap.

To his great surprise, the door to his compartment shot open almost immediately and a mass of bushy brown hair flew at him. "Harry!" came Hermione's voice from a crushing hug. "It's so good to see–" with a jolt, she jerked back as Anguis spread his hood, reared up, and hissed menacingly. Harry said simply, *It's alright, Anguis.* Slowly, the cobra lowered his hood and slunk off to the corner of the compartment, eyeing Hermione warily.

Hermione Granger was about the same height as Harry. She wore a blue, sleeveless cloak over a white dress shirt which complimented her figure nicely. Her brown eyes surveyed Harry in a bemused fashion as she brushed a strand of light brown hair from her face. "When did you get that, Harry?" she said, pointing at Anguis. Harry stood and said, "About a week ago. His name's Anguis." She smiled and hugged him again; Harry noticed that she was just shorter than him. "Oh, it's good to see you!" Hermione said, looking up at him. "I haven't seen you since... well, since seventh year!"

"Likewise," Harry replied, grinning back. His grin turned to a look of muted awe as he saw her left hand. "Hermione," he said, taking her hand in his to inspect the ring, "When did you get this?" She reddened slightly before saying, "A month ago. Ron gave it to me." Harry gaped at her. "You–you and Ron are–"

"Engaged," Hermione said, grinning again and nodding. After a slight pause, Harry said, "Well, congratulations! I had no idea–I mean, I knew you two were going steady and all at school, but... wow," he finished, rather lamely. Hermione nodded again and said, "How are you doing, Harry? How are things going?" Harry let Anguis curl around his arm before saying, "Well, I've been thinking about writing another book," he said, stroking the cobra. "What about?" Hermione interjected, watching the snake warily. "Well," he said, "I think I might write something that students can use at the school. Probably about Defense Against the Dark Arts, or something like that." Hermione's eyebrows raised and her mouth formed an 'oh' of surprise. "The only thing that's happened to me so far besides that is Dumbledore's message. And Anguis, of course."

"You got one too, then?" Hermione said, sitting up in her seat. "Yeah," Harry said. "Blimey, things must be pretty bad up there if he's resorted to asking former students to teach for him. I mean, I know McGonagall passed away and all, but I didn't know so may of them left!" Hermione nodded sadly. Minerva McGonagall's death had been a blow to nearly everyone she had taught; although strict and possessed of a no-nonsense air, she had become like a grandmotherly figure to Harry, whom she had taken a liking to. Though some suspected foul play, Harry felt certain that she had merely died due to her old age. After a short silence, Harry asked, "Is Ron here?" 

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "He didn't receive a letter. And even if he did, he's too busy to come, what with work and all." Harry knew that Ron had become a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, a division of wizard police second only to the Aurors. And, what with the recent streak of troll sightings by Muggles, Harry had no doubt that Ron would be up to his ears in complicated paperwork, memory wipes, and so forth. "Where's Crookshanks?" Harry said, suddenly noticing the absence of the ginger colored, bandy-legged tomcat that Hermione owned. "Oh," she said, waving it away dismissively, "he's at home with Ron. Besides, Harry, you're not the only one who's purchased a new creature, Harry."

"What d'you–" but before he could finish, Hermione had raised her hand and called, "Vima, come!" For a moment, Harry could hear only the rumbling of the train. Then, with a loud flapping sound, an enormous furry animal flew into the compartment, grabbed onto Hermione's arm, and hung upside down. 

Vima, it turned out, was a fruit bat. More specifically, she was an Australian grey-headed flying fox bat. True to her name, she had a grey, fox-like head and stared at Harry with large, dark eyes. The long hair on the nape of her neck was a bright reddish-orange color, but this was the only color on her otherwise grey-and-black body. 

Hermione took out her wand and brandished it with a cry of, "_Fructis!_" at which a large mango appeared out of nowhere. She held it up for Vima to eat, who obliged hungrily. "It turns out, Harry," she said as the fruit bat stuffed herself, "that Parseltongue isn't the only language that exists with which you can communicate with animals. I found that I inherited the ability to talk with bats from one of my great-great-great-grandparents." 

"Yeah?" he said, suddenly extremely interested. "What's it called?"

"It's called Myotitongue, or Speech of the Bats, and it's downright useful," she said. She stroked Vima gently. "I got her because I decided I needed an owl to carry mail for me." Harry waited a moment before saying, "If you decided to get an owl, then why do you have a fruit bat?" Vima stopped chewing and gave him a withering glare. "Because... well, because she spoke to me, that's why," Hermione said resolutely. "She's actually a lot better than owls, anyway. It's been proven that bats can actually fly longer than most owls when delivering parcels. They're really strong too; Vima's already successfully delivered things like a large cauldron and a live fire crab for me."

"No way," Harry said, leaning closer. "Is she big enough for that?"

"Oh, yes," asserted Hermione. "She's already got a five foot wing span. And, unlike most bats, fruit bats can travel during the day, as well."

"Well," Harry said, still a little doubtful, "if bats are so great, then why do most people have owls instead?" Hermione stroked Vima gently. "Well, unless you're really good with animals or can speak Myotitongue, they're extremely hard to manage." Harry nodded knowingly. Snakes, especially venomous ones like Anguis, were the same way.

Anguis hissed slightly and tightened his grip on Harry's arm. He snapped out of his trance at watching Vima chew and hissed, *Oh, sorry, Anguis. This is Vima, Hermione's bat.* Anguis peered at the bat, who swallowed and peered right back. Without a warning, she had flung herself off of Hermione's arm and onto Harry's, using her wings as a pair of front legs. She sniffed Anguis, her black nose quivering, and Anguis followed suit, his tongue flickering rapidly. Harry was surprised at the bat's weight. "Wait a minute," he said, addressing Hermione again. "Anguis really distrusts owls; why's he so friendly with Vima?" Hermione shrugged and replied, "Bats and snakes seem to be very tolerant of each other. At least magical ones do, anyway."

Satisfied, Harry turned back to watch the two animals inspecting other. Vima seemed to have finished, and turned to Hermione. Taking Harry by surprise, Hermione spoke in a strange, rapid language that seemed to be comprised largely of squeaks, growls, and chirps. Vima cocked her head and, with an expression of understanding, hopped off Harry's arm to hang on the edge of the luggage compartment above Hermione's head. "What did you tell her?" Harry asked Hermione, who had conjured a papaya for the fruit bat to consume. "Just to come away and hang here," she said, pocketing her wand.

"Listen, Harry, have you seen any of our other former classmates on the train?" He was taken aback. Of the many questions she could have asked, he had expected this one least of all. "Er... no, have you?" she shook her head, causing her waist-length hair to ripple. "I expect they're either not here or in a different carriage," she said, before looking out the window with a start. "Ooh, Harry, you'd better get ready. We're almost there." 


End file.
